Heart of a Leader
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: Everyone deals with grief differently. Some better than others. Some work something out, others let it swallow them. The Tracy's were no different: they all found different ways of coping – or letting it appear that way.


A slightly different look to what I normally write, but…

* * *

Alan cried, Gordon dived, Virgil played and John stayed, but Scott lied since Jeff died.

* * *

When he called John to say dad hadn't contacted him yet, the red head ran a check to assure him all was fine.

When John called him to say that dad was gone, he took a moment to react.

When John told him he was coming down, he wondered whether to protest. John said he'd wait a few days: he was still hopeful they could find something.

His arrival three days later killed those odds.

* * *

When he told Virgil he had been forced to chase him to Thunderbird Two and stop him launching the craft out of desperation. They sat there and discussed it to no end. Scott didn't mention that he hadn't told the younger Tracy's as he knew Virgil would volunteer to try and save him.

Virgil mumbled something about piano and went.

* * *

When he told Gordon he had to practically pull the younger from the pool. He could barely bring himself to break the happiness he'd seen on the blonde's face. It was rare that they received so much time without a rescue being called in.

* * *

When he told Alan he'd interrupted him working with Brains on Thunderbird Three. He'd been met with disbelief, then it changed to shock and then there were tears. Not many, not for long, but enough.

* * *

They'd gone out with John as their guide on a 'family' venture and found nothing.

* * *

When he told Colonel Casey, she'd offered her help. He'd told her he'd let her know if they needed anything, even so she offered to search the area.

She called him two days later to let him know what the GDF had found (or lack of) at the same time John did to let him know the same thing.

There was _nothing._

* * *

They didn't have a funeral.

The choice not to have one did very almost create their own. Scott – for once – hadn't really any idea what to do. His leadership qualities had abandoned him and he could only find himself listening as Alan and John advocated reasons for it whilst Virgil and Gordon fervently denied each one as valid because;

One, their father couldn't be dead.

Two, a funeral was a way of accepting that.

Three, they had no body.

Four, it would - most likely – leak out to the public that Jeff Tracy was gone.

Five, well, they didn't have one, but they still refused it.

Alan and John were the ones who caved in the end after having thought of the fifth reason: they didn't want to bury him yet.

Scott got through without saying a word, without making a single decision. And he found he liked it.

* * *

They didn't have a funeral, but they did have another debate.

Dad's room. Jeff's room was always there, always a reminder.

Clear it out, throw things away; lock it up and wait until the end of their days; leave it open and hold onto belief or… Well, they didn't have a fourth and they didn't have a discussion upon it in the end further than the choices they could make, so they didn't take any action – they simply left it.

Sometimes the door would be open and you would know someone had wanted something, wanted to see or be reminded of something. Sometimes, the key would be turned in the door: locked tight and fast. Sometimes – most times – it would be unlocked, but shut, just as dad would have had it: just like they were waiting for him to come home.

That was just how they lived.

Shouldering it and forgetting it.

Or endeavouring to.

* * *

John went back.

That whipped up a storm. Alan was adamant he stayed, Gordon thought it best he go, Virgil sat on the fence. And Scott… he did nothing. Again.

John made the choice for them in the end (though it wasn't easy and drove both Grandma and Brains up the wall that their opinions could not be considered in the brother's squabbling) and went, ran away from an issue he couldn't deal with.

Scott just watched him go.

Back to being _alone_.

* * *

Alan quit.

He refused school work, deciding for himself that it wasn't important. Virgil argued pointedly that it was and Gordon – not the academic of the family, as he had self-proclaimed – applauded the nonchalant attitude under Virgil's scrutiny. John tried to settle it from Thunderbird Five, attempting to reason to all three sides until Alan sat in between the options completely clueless as to what it was that _he_ wanted.

"Scott, what do you think he should do?"

The question had thrown him and he'd given the worst answer he could have for Alan was looking at him for guidance, John for balance, Gordon and Virgil for settlement, all of them for a decision and he said: "I don't know."

* * *

Gordon stopped swimming.

Alan thought he'd developed a fear, Virgil wondered if he'd given up and John wasn't informed of it.

"It's not really worth worrying him with." Gordon reasoned.

"He won't mind hearing about it." Alan offered, but Gordon shook his head and they were done with it. Alan brought it to him as the eldest to help. He said he'd mention it.

He never really did.

The closest he came was, "why don't we discuss it?" But Gordon blanked it and he never tried again.

* * *

Virgil packed away the arts.

They weren't practical, or so he said.

Paints went in boxes and easels were moved the spare rooms. His brushes were stored with the paints and old paintings were piled up before being tied up neatly with string. Virgil kept one. The rest he dumped on the table to multiple confused faces.

"Get rid of them. I don't want them."

Gordon untied the string and pulled out the top one. "But this is Thunderbird Two!"

Virgil shrugged and went.

Scott tried to mention it. He brought it up any time he could, although that being said Alan and Gordon brought it up much more, even John pitched in, but Virgil's mind never swayed.

"I don't want them."

No more was said on the matter.

But Scott kept _every one_.

* * *

 _Scott_ _cracked_.

Once he realised he'd been lying to himself to the point of escapism, something seemed to register with him. Clarity came to his actions and thoughts along with a knowledge he'd been devoid of for many of the past weeks. Every decision he'd made – or not made – had been from his stuck, skewed view point which lacked any real focus or motive.

Not one that he'd seen at the time anyhow.

He hadn't wanted John to go back up because _he_ needed someone.

He had kept Virgil's artwork not primarily because the younger may one day ask for it back, but because _he_ needed something to hold onto.

He hadn't pressed Gordon for the problem because he knew it was one conversation _he_ wouldn't be able to hold.

He had avoided giving Alan guidance because he didn't know how to do the same for _himself_.

 _He_ didn't know how to cope.

* * *

Not being able to cope shocked him at first considering who he was. The eldest of five, the first son of Jeff Tracy, the brother who had to be a strong front, the brother who needed to be depended upon, the brother who had worked out his future years ago.

That future changed with the idea of International Rescue.

That future didn't change with the death of Jeff Tracy.

* * *

A few days later he made them a proposal.

Gathered in the living room he told them _his_ thoughts.

For a moment there was silence, but then Alan beamed, Gordon decreed, Virgil agreed and John dreamed, but Scott led for the first time since dad died.

* * *

It took time and it took strength, it took effort and little was given back.

International Rescue went out again and none knew any of Jeff's death.

Scott had picked himself back up. He spoke with John and caught Virgil taking back his paintings. He talked it over with Gordon before getting thoroughly splashed then discussed school with Alan and gave his advice.

They all worked, but they worked in different ways. They always found time to talk with each other and times to remind themselves just how important and influential a certain someone had been. That much was the same.

They _never forgot_. That part _never_ changed.

Though they all found different ways of coping – or of letting it appear that way – when it came to it, they all helped each other to succeed in finding their way.

It just took a little bit of time to find the right heart again.


End file.
